Experiment 77349
by JesusFreakft
Summary: The School has started an experiment more than a decade ago. And the results of this experiment are about to become known. Some Wildcats have powers that none of them realize. Surrounded by opposition, who will prevail?
1. Experiment 77349

**Experiment 77349**

As you may be aware, there were several experiments that made it past infancy other than our successful attempts at human-avian hybrids.

These experiments, 47692, 47693, 47695, 47696, 47697, 47699, respectively, remained in our School under research until their tenth birth date. During this time we noted a delay in the activation of their powers.

At the previously mentioned time they were transferred to a normal urban, middle class life, their memories erased, and new memories implemented.

These memories contained those of an average childhood with average parents, average experiences, etc.

The "parents" are our own people, and they have provided us with the statistics needed for us to continue our research in experiment 77349 without setback. With the data they have provided us with and our own computer systems, we were able to determine that the delayed activation of their powers had finally ended.

The most decisive moment in experiment 77349 has come. The experiments mentioned above are about to gain the powers we grafted into their DNA so many years ago.

Fellow scientists, the time is now. We await only the feedback from our fellow scientists stationed with the experiments.

_Jeb Batchelder_


	2. New Year's Festivities

Troy Bolton dribbled and backed up against his defender. He faked a swivel to the right and turned to the left, facing the basket. He stepped back once and jumped for the shot, his momentum still carrying him backward slightly as the ball flew through the air and swished down through the net. A perfect score.

His defender, also his coach and his dad, Jack Bolton, laughed, panting for breath, "Nice shot, Troy! At this rate we'll crush that opposing basketball team!"

Troy nodded, smiling at the thought, as he also caught his breath, "They're dead!" he said confidently.

"That's the spirit!" His dad said approvingly.

"Are you two going to throw hoops all night?" the voice echoed across gym. Troy's mom walked in wearing fancy celebration clothes. "After all," she continued, "It's New Years Eve. We didn't take a vacation at this ski lodge for you to keep at it with more basketball."

Jack Bolton started to speak but was stopped by a look from his wife.

"Alright, son," he conceded, "Let's stop for now and party," he winked at Troy, who grinned back.

"Right, dad," he said, heading off to take a shower and change into more formal attire.

Gabriella Montez stood uncertainly outside the indoor gym at the ski lodge, the dark night enveloping everything outside. She glanced at the big ski slope and at the main hotel where her mom celebrated the New Years Eve with the rest of the adults. She turned back to the doors of the gym, the bitter cold forcing her to finally open them and face the young adults' party.

It wasn't that much lighter than outside, she realized, in the auditorium. There were some dim lights by the snacks table, and two red Exit signs were lit up, one over the door she had just entered through and one other clear on the other side of the room over another set of doors. Other than that the only things lit where some decorative lights and a disco ball endlessly rotating, seeming to shift the floor and walls.

She clutched her book close and wandered hesitantly toward some couches near a wall, dodging people from all the normal cliches. There was the jocks and cheerleaders section, and behind them the math nerds gathered around a table to debate equation solving techniques and let any lesser fortunate freshman that wanted to learn in on their knowledge. Even a couple goths sat in a corner, hopelessly out of place in the festive environment.

Gabriella dodged a skater returning to his table with a tray of nachos before reaching the couches. She sat down on one and began to read.

Troy walked into the gym and closed the door behind him, shutting off the blast of cold air outside.

He immediately caught a whiff of the snack mixes and sodas, and as he straightened his white shirt from the wind he saw a small stage with a couple of teens singing karaoke while a disc jockey moved to the music as he controlled the tracks from below.

"Hey, Troy!"

He looked in the direction of the voice and saw Jordan, another basketball player he'd met while on Christmas break, motioning to him from the other side of the auditorium.

Troy stepped farther into the room and dodged people as he moved toward around where he'd seen Jordan, occasionally using his extra height of a few inches to look over people's heads to make sure he was on course.

"Hey, man," Jordan said when he reached the spot where a couple of the basketball jocks were talking, "Where were you?"

"Yeah," Matt put in, "Thought maybe you were sick or something."

"Nah," Troy said, "Just practicing basketball. I wouldn't miss this!"

"Well _I_ would," Matt said, "But my mom said I gotta keep an eye on Tiffany."

Troy followed his friend's eyes to a slightly younger girl sitting at one of the tables talking to a group of other girls.

"Don't listen to him, Troy," Jordan said with a wink, "Matt just _pretends_ he'd rather be playing or watching basketball every waking moment of the day. He wouldn't pass up a party any more than you or I would. Would you, Matt?"

Matt grinned, "I guess not," he conceded, "I can practice my jump shot tomorrow, anyway."

"Okay," the disc jockey's voice intoned through speakers strategically positioned throughout the room, "Now we're going to have that random karaoke I promised a while ago..."

Troy toned the voice out and said, "Hey, you guys free for a game tomorrow before you leave?"

"Always free for a basketball game," Jordan grinned, hitting his fist with Troy's.

"Not me," Matt said regretfully, "My mom wants to leave first thing in the morning before the traffic gets heavy. I think maybe..." he stopped talking as a bright light settled on Troy, blinding him.

"Hey, wha...?" Troy started to ask before the speakers drowned him out.

"Aaaand there's our lucky first singer!" The disc jockey's voice came over the speakers dramatically, and he motioned to Troy, "Come right up here, dude!"

Gabriella focused attentively on her book, trying to drown out the chaos going on around her. The story was a cross between genetic mutation and romance with a little science and mathematics thrown in. Just the kind of story she liked.

She was halfway down the page when a bright glare of light shone directly in her eyes. She tried to lower herself so the book would block the light's glare, but a few people began nudging her with winks and grins that told her that something involved her.

She sat up and saw quite a few people staring at her.

"AAAND HERE'S OUT SECOND SINGER!!"

She nearly jumped out of her skin. She hadn't seen that speaker right behind her, but the sound was extremely loud this close to it.

The disc jockey was amiably motioning her over, and several others were cheerfully nudging her in the right direction.

Unsure of what to do, Gabriella set her book down on the couch cushion and made toward the disc jockey and the stage on which he stood.

"No, guys, I don't sing," Troy said, "Really, I don't."

But Jordan and Matt wouldn't listen. They just laughed and shoved him toward the stage with encouraging remarks.

Troy reached the stage about the same time as a girl in a blue-green, long-sleeved shirt did. She looked as unsure as he felt, and then some.

"Right up here," the disc jockey said to both of them, still sounding perfectly cheerful, as he gently moved them into place behind two microphones onstage, facing a projector screen where the lyrics to the songs were displayed.

"Um...actually..." Troy started to protest.

"I've never...I can't..." Gabriella started to add.

"Don't be ridiculous," the disc jockey grinned, "Someday you guys might thank me for this. Or not," he added, moving Troy and Gabriella into their places.

"Oh, just shut up," Troy muttered, giving the DJ a little shove, "Just start the song so we can get this over with and..." his voice trailed off as the DJ flew backward ten or so feet, arms flailing, to land on the sound booth controls. He slid off and hit the floor with a thud.

The room grew silent, except for a voice near the back.

"And then with X squared you have to multiply the numerator by pi and divide by the reciprocal of the original number and then you'll get..." the math nerd stopped his explanation as he realized he was the only voice still talking in the room.

A couple younger adults in charge rushed forward to see if the DJ was all right while Troy and Gabriella stood on the stage too stunned to move.

"Call 911!" someone yelled and an adult pulled out his cell phone.

The DJ suddenly twitched and then struggled to sit up. He looked around sheepishly at all the attention he was getting.

"No, I'm okay!" he protested to the adults surrounding him, "Really, I am!"

He tried to stand up and grimaced, clutching his spine. He shook his head, as if to clear it, and stood on wobbly legs.

"I'm okay," he repeated, trying to make it to the sound booth, "Let's keep the party going!"

A couple of the adults talked in hushed tones to each other for a moment before nodding in agreement and helping the DJ to his seat in the booth.

"Now, Johnny," one said to him, "Let us know if you feel bad at all okay? That was a nasty fall, could have some bad side effects even if you seem okay now."

The DJ just waved him off with a quick agreement and sat down at his seat.

"I'M GOOD, GUYS AND GALS," his voice came over the speakers, "LET'S GET ON WITH THE PARTY!!"

He started the music track blaring through the silence and everyone began to talk again and do whatever they had been doing before the mishap. The DJ flipped a switch and the lyrics appeared from the overhead projector.

Although Troy knew the song by heart, he barely noticed in time when to start the singing.

"This could be the start," he sang, "Of something new..."

_Is this the start of something new?_ He wondered, _What happened a few minutes ago? I barely nudged the guy and he went flying! Maybe I'm just misjudging my own strength..._

After the song Troy and Gabriella stood outside, near the heating vents, to converse.

"Are you leaving tomorrow?" Gabriella asked.

"Yeah," Troy said, "My dad has to get back to work and I've got school."

Gabriella nodded, "Yeah, me too."

"Do you have a cell phone?" Troy asked.

"Yes."

"Here," Troy handed her his phone, "Put your number in."

"Oh, here," Gabriella said, fishing hers out of her purse, "You too."

They programmed their numbers in as the crowd of people inside started counting down.

"Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...one...HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!"

Troy and Gabriella exchanged phones again and checked the numbers and Troy nonchalantly snapped a picture of Gabriella using the camera on his phone.

They stood there in silence for a few moments before Troy said:

"I guess...I guess I'd better be getting back."

Gabriella nodded, "Yeah. Me too."

"Bye. I'll call you."

She nodded, "Yeah. Um...see you."

As Troy walked away he wondered again about the mishap with the DJ, but he easily dismissed it with the thoughts of the girl he had made a friend with. He looked at the picture on his cell phone. Too bad he'd probably never see her again. He sighed.

Back to school.


	3. Incoming Calls

Gabriella Montez stood uncomfortably behind her mom as the principal of her new school gave them a warm welcome and pep talk for the new school year. It was nice that the principal was so polite and all, but it was the other students' opinions that would matter more to her survival here.

However, her mother seemed very happy to talk to the principal about her daughter's education in this fine school, so meanwhile Gabriella looked around the school hallway where they had met the principal on his way to inspect the school cafeteria.

East High seemed pretty cool so far. Clean hallways, organized classrooms, diligent staff. Of course, you couldn't judge a school too much until the students flooded in and did their best to wreck the place.

There was a fancy trophy case by one wall with at least ten trophies of all shapes and sizes.

She felt an itch on her back and reached back to scratch it.

The white polished floor reflected the light from the fluorescent lights, bulbs replaced for a new semester. The temperature was a bit on the cool side, probably to accommodate for the body temperature of all the people that would raise it in an hour, Gabriella reasoned.

She wondered how many insects had made their homes here during the long winter months...

"Gabriella?"

She blinked and left her thoughts for the time being.

"Sorry Mom, what?"

"I said I'd see you later," her mom said, "Classes are getting ready to start and I'd better get to the office," she smiled encouragingly.

"Yeah, that would probably be a good idea," Gabriella smiled back, refusing to let her anxiety show.

She could make it on her own. She'd done it before, and she could do it now.

She felt another itch on her back and scratched it.

Gabriella took a deep breath.

Let the pressure begin.

* * *

Troy Bolton closed his locker and started walking down the hall. When he had checked the wall clock a few minutes ago it said he had five minutes left to get to homeroom for class. It had taken a couple minutes to get here to his locker and would take another to get to class.

"Hey, Troy! Wait up!"

Troy stopped and looked over his shoulder as Chad Danforth, who had the same homeroom, hurried down the hall between a couple stragglers on their way to class.

"Hey, Chad," Troy said when Chad caught up, "What's up? I haven't seen you for...what...like a couple weeks?"

Chad grinned as they headed down the hall together, "Only that long? Seems like forever since we've had a basketball practice."

"I hear you, dude," Troy agreed, "I barely kept myself up at that ski resort we vacationed at during Christmas break!"

"At least you got to practice," Chad retorted, "My grandparents don't even have a concrete driveway, much less a hoop!" he scratched his back, "The closest I got to practicing was doing stretches and running around on their fields with dead crops lying around!"

Troy opened the door to the classroom and held it open for Chad, "Guess my dad was right about getting out of practice," he said, following Chad into the classroom, "I didn't think I'd feel as cramped as I did without the practices."

"Yeah?" Chad replied, "Well at least you didn't step in a gopher hole and twist your ankle. I was stuck inside for half a week because of that."

"That's too bad," Troy said, "My dad said that..." his voice ran out mid-sentence as Ms. Darbus' voice cut through the chatter.

"Quiet! Quiet, please! Drama class is now beginning! Take your seats, please!"

* * *

Sharpay Evans sat at her desk and waited for Ms. Darbus to get to the interesting part about the Winter Musical here at East High, which always followed the incredibly boring introduction she began each semester with.

To pass the time, Sharpay studied the back of Troy Bolton's head a few feet in front of her. He looked as cute as always, light brown curls covering his shirt where muscles rippled whenever he moved. He wasn't the most clean or high-class, but Sharpay could make allowances.

"Isn't that right, Ms. Evans?" Ms. Darbus' voice came through Sharpay's thoughts.

"Of course, Ms. Darbus," Sharpay said smoothly, her voice giving away nothing other than that she had been listening all along.

As the boredom built over the next few minutes, students began to stop the pretense of interested attention and Sharpay could hear the occasional shuffling in the desks as legs assumed different postures or a particularly brave person slipped a piece of paper to one of his friends.

Sharpay felt slight tickle on her back and reached around to scratch it as her mind ran through the possibilities of which lotion could be at fault for this inconvenience.

"...And that, dear students, is the beauty of the Winter Musical," Ms. Darbus put the emphasis on the last syllable when she said 'musical'.

"But what is the theme of this year's winter musical?" she continued, sounding, Sharpay thought quite ironically, quite theatrical, "What is the purpose for the play we will soon perform as a brilliant spectacle for all the people of East High School?"

Okay, Sharpay thought, The boring part had ended and the part she was interested in, the art and attention of the winter musical's theater production, had began. She turned her attention away from Troy Bolton and focused fully on Ms. Darbus.

* * *

Chad Danforth slouched in his desk and mentally went through a couple basketball plays he'd been working on during Christmas break.

He saw Sharpay Evens glance at Troy, her face a cross between dreamy and snobby. Chad rolled his eyes.

"Mr. Danforth! Did you have something to comment on?" Ms. Darbus glared at him.

Chad realized she must've taken his rolling of eyes wrong and almost groaned, but stopped as he realized that that wouldn't make the situation any better.

"Well, Mr. Danforth?"

Chad tried to form an excuse but it was only half formed when he saw Troy out of the corner of his eye mouth silently "Winter Musical".

"Actually," Chad said, smiling, "I was thinking about how dull this school would be without a Winter Musical."

"Quite right," Ms. Darbus beamed, "In fact, the Winter Musical was created for the very purpose of creating an atmosphere of harmony around the school and it's students, their families, and all of..."

Chad tuned her voice out again and breathed with relief. He looked at Troy to thank him, but Troy was looking back past Chad. Troy squinted before looking back at Ms. Darbus while his hand reached imperceptibly into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Chad cocked an eyebrow slightly, wondering what was so important to make him try a phone call in class.

As Troy started to dial Chad maintained his innocence by resting both hands on his desk and looking at Ms. Darbus with an interested expression plastered on his face.

As Troy subtly held the phone to his face, letting it ring, Chad saw Sharpay check at her phone for an "Incoming Call" message. Apparently not seeing it, she glanced back at Ryan, who shrugged, his cell phone in his hand.

Chad heard a slight rustle from his other side and saw a new girl looking at her phone. Probably thought Troy was crushing on her or something. New girls tended to do that, but most gave up after a semester of being ignored by him.

Realization dawned and Chad inconspicuously fished his own phone out. The call was most likely to him. More likely than it was that Troy was calling to talk any of the other students in this class.

He held his phone below desk level and looked at the display. No new calls.

"Well, chatting in class, are we now?" Ms. Darbus' voice came from Chad's right. He killed the phone and tried to hide it, but it was too late. He sighed as Ms. Darbus came alongside the desks, collecting first the new girls', then his, Ryan's, Sharpay's, and Troy's phones.

"And I will expect to see you all in detention after school, of course," Ms. Darbus continued, "But we will be working on the scenery, costumes, and props. for the Winter Musical, so I'm sure you won't be bored at all."

She winked at Sharpay, who smiled brightly back and excitedly bounced twice in her seat for good measure.

Chad sighed resignedly, his hopes for after school diminishing, and looked at Troy, whose expression bore an amazing resemblance to Chad's own.


	4. Just Wing It

Ryan Evens walked confidently down the hall behind his sister Sharpay as all students male stopped their conversations to gaze upon her beauty. And she deserved it too, Ryan knew. He thought he deserved to have a few girls admire him every once in a while, too. But with Troy Bolton around that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. Girls seemed to think Troy looked better than any other guy in school. Not that Ryan could blame them. Troy was such a dork, though. Seriously, a guy who throws balls through a hoop, calls it fun, and gets everyone drooling over him for it?

That was why he was helping his sister out here. If she could get Troy to go out with her (personally he couldn't see why Sharpay liked Troy so much either, but whatever) then the rest of the girls would be free to notice his handsome looks and dramatic skills. Not that Sharpay didn't deserve his help getting whatever boy she wanted anyway, but this was a little bonus for him in the mix.

He was a little annoyed about getting detention, but it was only because he had been helping Sharpay with the phone call she thought she would be getting in the middle of class.

It seemed like kind of a stupid thing to Ryan, answering your phone in the middle of class when there wasn't even a call, but what did he know? Certainly his sister would have had a good reason for it. She had a good reason for everything. And who was he to deny her the help she needed?

Of course if he was at home he would probably just be keeping tabs on Sharpay's friends/enemies for her. He supposed that detention in drama class was one of the better things that could happen to him.

He was sure that his sister would find some way to blame the whole thing on him, but he knew that that was just the way she dealt with things.

Sharpay slowed in front of him and he stopped his train of thought to pay full attention in case of a problem. She turned opened the bathroom door.

"I'll just be a moment, Ryan, dear," she purred before disappearing inside, the door slipping shut behind her.

Ryan sighed. There was no problem. And the unspoken command told him to stay there in the hall to wait for her. He knew she would be longer than a moment, though, so he opened the door to the men's room a few feet away and stepped inside.

He would have time.

He hadn't had time.

"There I was, relying on you to be here. _Trusting_ you. And you just walk off to who knows where!" Sharpay groaned dramatically and Ryan mentally rolled his eyes, "Think of the things that could have happened to me!" she continued, "What if I had been mauled by those idiotic jocks running maniacally down the halls?!"

"Troy Bolton is a jock," Ryan mentioned timidly.

"You just don't understand, do you?!" she screeched, "Nobody understands me!"

Ryan sighed and scratched an itch behind his left arm. She would be done with her rant soon enough.

Well, he corrected himself, Not soon enough. But soon, nevertheless.

True to his instinct (and experience) Sharpay's anger was finally reduced to sulking as she walked down the hall with the same proud, confident step of the high-class she always had, her slight frown warning others not to interfere lest they face her wrath.

Seeming to notice his awkward silence, Sharpay slowed her pace slightly and walked closer to her brother.

"That's alright, Ryan," she consoled him, "I'm sure you'll do better next time, won't you?" she looked at him pleadingly.

She must need something from me, Ryan thought absently while his mouth said, "Of course, sis."

She smiled sweetly at him and brought him closer into a hug. Then she jumped slightly and stopped the hug.

"What's on your back?" she asked.

"What?" Ryan asked.

"I said what's..."

"I heard what you said," Ryan interrupted, cringing as an afterthought to what he had done.

But she was so engrossed in thought she didn't notice, "Well, then, what is it?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked, "There's nothing on my back."

"I felt something," she insisted, stopping in the middle of the hall and the few students still left in school streamed around them.

"Like what?" he asked, "A bug?"

"Not like an insect, if that's what you mean," she said with an impatient wave of her hand, "More like an ailment kind of bug," she ran her hand over the back of his shirt again, "Like a sunburn or something. Were you in the sun too long yesterday?" she asked him, suddenly suspicious, "I told you not to stay out too long."

"No," he insisted, "I came in right when you did, remember?"

She blinked, remembering, "That's right. Well, what _is_ it?" and before he could stop her she peered down inside his shirt.

"So what is it?" he asked, slightly annoyed at the liberties being taken. She didn't say anything so he said, "Sharpay? What is it?"

He looked back at her. She was standing behind him, eyes staring into space.

"Sharpay?" his experience told him to leave her to think whatever she was thinking, but she looked more shocked than thoughtful. He waved his hand in front of her face, "Sharpay?"

She blinked and her eyes focused on Ryan's face.

"You've got wings," she whispered.

"I've got what?" he asked incredulously.

"Wings," Sharpay repeated, "Stuck to your back."

"Well maybe you have them too," Ryan said feeling the back of his sister's shirt.

"Don't touch me!" she suddenly shrieked, jerking from his grasp.

She turned and ran back down the hall the way they had come, people parting to make way for her wild dash. Ryan tried to follow, but the seems of the path she had created were already starting to close.

"Excuse me, pardon me, out of the way, let me pass," Ryan said as he frantically tried to weave through the crowd toward his sister.

Sharpay dashed into the ladies' room, the door slamming behind her.

Ryan turned into the men's room and removed his shirt, turning so that he could see his back in the mirrors over the sinks.

It was true.

He had wings. He touched them delicately with his hand, then more firmly as he tried to remove them. But they were there to stay it seemed.

Ryan's eyes widened as he remembered what he had felt on his sister's back before she had ran.

It was rough, like his wings.

He hurried out the door to the hall, struggling to put his shirt back on. He looked up and down the hall, but Sharpay was nowhere in sight.

He heard a high-pitched scream of terror from the ladies' room and suddenly he knew where Sharpay was.

And she had wings.


	5. Revolutionary Evolutionaries

"What's the square root of 1,278?"

Gabriella's eyes stared straight ahead, lips moving almost imperceptibly. Behind her, Taylor McKessie looked up at Gabriella from the sheet paper she held in her hand.

"Thirty..." Gabriella began, "Thirty-four...no—thirty-five point seven...five," she looked up at Taylor, who checked the paper and nodded, grinning.

"You got it!" she squealed excitedly, "You're getting faster every time! We are going to crush that team at the decathlon!"

Gabriella grinned, "Definitely!" she said, taking the sheet of paper Taylor extended to her.

Shelves of books surrounded them inside the school library. A few computers rested on tables, patiently awaiting the next student to research for a last-minute report. Gabriella and Taylor sat at a table near the corner, math books and homework spread in seemingly random piles across it. At this hour nobody was inside the library and the librarian (Gabriella had forgotten what Taylor said her name was) was giving them some leniency regarding their quietness, or lack thereof.

Gabriella gave the paper a little jerk to straighten it and looked down the list of numbers, "Okay, how about...the square root of 3,192?"

Taylor closed her eyes as she thought, "It's...fifty-six point five," she opened her eyes with a smile as Gabriella checked the paper.

"Perfect!" Gabriella declared. She looked admiringly at Taylor, "You're always so much faster than I am!"

Taylor waved her off, "Nonsense, I'm just more relaxed. This is your first week here; naturally you're more stressed in a foreign environment."

"Well, I am a little nervous," Gabriella admitted.

"See?" Taylor said confidently, "In no time at all your stress levels will be down and you'll be as fast as I am. We'd better finish the rest of our homework," she added, glancing at the clock at the far end of the room and the librarian sitting below it at her desk, "Or she'll throw us out of here before we even finish."

Gabriella smiled and agreed, and soon they were both bent silently over their assignments.

It was about ten minutes later when Taylor shut her book, leaned back, and stretched, "There," she said, "Finished."

Gabriella looked up from the paper she was writing on, "Already?" she reached around to scratch her back.

Taylor nodded, "I already knew most of the material he covered today.

She stood up and walked around the table to the other side, where Gabriella's papers were spread out, "How are you coming?"

"Pretty good," Gabriella said, squirming a little in her seat, "I feel cramped, though, like I should be doing something more active."

"It's that stress again," Taylor shook her head sadly, "Here, let me loosen you up a little," she stepped behind Gabriella and started massaging her shoulders.

"Uh...thanks," Gabriella said in surprise.

"Now, you keep at it," Taylor told her, "You're practically finished."

A few minutes later she asked, "Gabriella?"

"Uhm?" Gabriella answered absently, figuring a problem in her head.

"What are you wearing on your back?"

There was a pause while Gabriella finished her thought and wrote down the answer on the paper.

Then she sat up, "What?"

"What are you wearing on your back?" Taylor repeated her question.

"Nothing, why?" Gabriella asked, turning to her new friend.

"There's something there," Taylor said.

"No, there's not," Gabriella said, puzzled.

"Yes, there is," Taylor insisted, massaging her back, "I can feel it."

"There's nothing there," Gabriella told her, "What would I have on my back?"

Taylor shrugged, "I don't know. But _something's_ there."

"Where?" Gabriella asked, trying to look behind her.

"You won't be able to see it, it's in the middle," Taylor said, "Here, I'll look," and before Gabriella could respond she looked down her shirt.

"Well?" Gabriella asked after a moment.

"Hold on," Taylor said.

Gabriella felt Taylor's hand feeling her back. Except that it wasn't her back. It was like something else on her back, except that she could feel with it. Like another appendage or something. She hadn't noticed it before...

"Gabriella," Taylor said excitedly, "You have wings!"

Gabriella started, then relaxed, "Good one, Taylor," she grinned, "You really had me going there."

"No, seriously!" Taylor said in awe, "There are wings on your back!"

"Like someone glued them there in my sleep or something?" Gabriella asked, alarm rising at the tone of Taylor's voice.

"No," Taylor said, "Like actual wings! They're small, but they're there! Do you get what this means?!" she asked excitedly, practically shaking in front of Gabriella.

"Um...no?"

"You're the next stage of human evolution!"

"I am?"

"Sure! In another few centuries all humans will probably have wings!"

"They will?"

"Yep! And all because of you! Oh! Isn't this exciting??"

"I suppose..." Gabriella blinked. This was getting a little fast for her.

"Oh!" Taylor said wistfully, "I only wish that I could have been the one. Not that I would want to deprive you of this honor," she added hastily, mistaking the surprised shock on Gabriella's face in her excitement.

"Actually," Gabriella said, "I think I might have rathered you be the one."

"Oh, now, don't be like that," Taylor said comfortingly, "It's just come as a shock to you, that's all. Who knows what these kinds of mutations do to your emotions! And I thought it was just normal stress! I should've seen it sooner. You said it was there and I just--"

"Taylor?" Gabriella broke in.

"What?"

"It's okay," she tried to muster a smile, "There was no way for you to know."

"I suppose not," Taylor sighed, "But still..." she stopped mid-thought, "You don't suppose I have them too, do you?"

"I wouldn't know," Gabriella shrugged, "I didn't even know I had them."

"So, check!" Taylor said as if this were the most obvious solution in the world, turning around with her back to Gabriella.

Gabriella hesitated a moment, then looked in. She could see two small wings with brown feathers the same color as Taylor's skin so closely resembling wrinkled skin or something that you could barely make them out.

"Yes," she reported, "You've got them too."

Taylor squealed, "Oh, this is so exciting!" she said, doing a dance with Gabriella, "Just think," she said, standing suddenly still, "Out of millions and millions and millions of people, _we_ were chosen to carry out the next stage of evolution! Us!!"

Gabriella nodded, trying to smile and feel her friend's enthusiasm.

"Just wait until we tell our parents, and our friends, and our teachers, and..."

"...Then they'll cart us up and take us away and put us in medical facilities for study," Gabriella finished.

Taylor stopped her constant rush of words as she realized the truth of her friend's words, "You mean we can't tell..._anybody?_" she asked anxiously.

"How can we?" Gabriella asked, "They'll all do the same thing."

"You're right," Taylor said more quietly, "We'd lose our life as we know it!" she hesitated, "But what about the furtherance of the human race?"

"Let's think about it a few days," Gabriella suggested, "Then we'll decide."

"You're absolutely right," Taylor said, "We're both stressed now. Any decision would be unreasonable and based on our emotions," she took a deep breath, "And there's a lot at stake here. There's no one who will believe us until we show them, and after that they won't want anything to do with us! Except for scientists like my mom. She'd want to study us like some animal or something."

"But we _are_ animals," Gabriella pointed out.

"True," Taylor conceded, "But you know what I mean. We can't trust _anybody._"

Gabriella had a thought and paused, "There is someone we can trust," she said.

"Who?"

"_My_ mom."


	6. Don't Count Your Baskets

Shoes scraped the concrete as the basketball arced through the air and flew downward straight through the netted ring. It hit the driveway and rebounded, but was stopped by a hand grabbing it mid-bounce.

"Nice shot, Chad," Troy grinned, "That's was a sweet move you did, that totally through me off balance!" he held up his fist.

"Thanks," Chad said, grinning as well, as he knocked his own fist against his friends, "I got it from a game on TV."

"Well, use it in the championship and it's sure to get 'em!" Troy said, dribbling the basketball farther down the driveway before turning and starting back up, Chad on the defensive.

He moved forward with with caution as he sized Chad up. He faked right and spun left, shooting, but Chad managed to get a finger on the ball and knocked it away.

"And the score is Chad: 14, Troy: 14," Chad announced.

"Make that the final score," Troy said, looking at the stopwatch sitting on the stairs leading up to his house, "That's the game."

"A tie?" Chad asked incredulously, "Again??"

"Looks like it," Troy turned back, wiping sweat off his brow.

"That's it!" Chad exclaimed, "This time you're going _down_, my friend!" he ripped off his sleeveless basketball shirt and pitched the wad into the grass on the side.

"I don't think so, _amigo_," Troy shot back, shrugging out of his own shirt and sending it to rest in a heap beside Chad's.

"Bring it _on_," Chad motioned.

"Hey, don't be so quick to seal your own doom," Troy advised him.

"As if!" Chad scoffed.

Troy brought the ball back and started forward, knees bent to make the most of his agility. Chad faked a lunge forward and drew back. Troy, started to spin but, seeing the fake, he reversed it and jumped for the shot as Chad drew back. It hit the rim and rolled atop for a minute before dropping through.

"What'd I tell you?" Troy grinned, "Your going _down_!"

"Don't count your baskets before they're swished," Chad argued, "I haven't even begun my mighty assault yet!"

He charged forward, curving slightly to the side and keeping his back toward Troy and the basket. Then he stopped and spun around, raising his arms. Troy jumped and Chad ducked around him and ran in close for an easy layup.

"Oh, you've done it now!" Troy warned, "You're finished!"

"Hey, hold up a minute," Chad called, panting for breath.

"Can't keep up with the great Troy, huh?" Troy grinned, dribbling back toward the other end of the drive.

"No, seriously, dude, hold on," Chad said, jogging toward him, still out of breath.

Troy turned around, "What's up?"

"Turn around," Chad said.

"Why?" but he did as his friend asked.

"What is this?" Chad asked in surprise.

Troy turned to see where his friend was looking, "What? Where?"

"No, turn around, it's on your back."

"My back?"

"It's...soft...like, feathers??"

"What are you talking about?" Troy demanded.

"You've got feathers on my back. Looks like you've been tarred and feathered or something..."

"Seriously, Chad, try to remember what century you're in," he shoved his friend playfully.

"No, like seriously," Chad insisted, "There's something on you."

Troy felt Chad's hands on his back. Except that it wasn't his back. It was like a blanket on his back. But how was he feeling something on it? And he didn't have a blanket or anything at all on his back... Sudden pain jolted him and he gasped.

"Wow..." Chad said, "These things are stuck tight! I haven't seen anything that sticks like this before."

"You must be forgetting fourth grade," Troy joked, "Remember that coin you stuck to the floor with that industrial-strength glue? Kids were trying to pull that off for a week!"

Chad's mouth smiled but his eyes lingered, "Yeah, but...on your _back_??"

Troy shrugged, "I don't know."

"Well, it's on there. Maybe your dad can get it off."

"Yeah, maybe," Troy agreed, his expression sobering when he saw his friend's lack of humor.

Chad turned around and began to walk toward the house.

"Yo, Chad, wait a sec," Troy said.

"What's up now?"

"It looks like something is on your back, too," Troy said, stopping Chad as he started to turn around, "It looks like...feathers. Like you said were on my back."

"I sense prank," Chad growled.

"Sharpay and Evan?" Troy asked.

"Who else?"

"But how would they have gotten it on us?" Troy asked, perplexed, "Wouldn't we have felt something??"

"We should have," Chad conceded, "But who, then?"

"I don't know," Troy shrugged, "Let's talk to my dad, just the same. He can help us get it off."

"Yeah, good idea," Chad agreed, "We can't go to school like this."

Troy tossed the ball onto the concrete and let it roll aimlessly before coming to a rest as they walked up the stairs toward the house.

"I'm gonna kill Ryan," Chad said.

"Careful," Troy warned, "You know how much Ms. Darbus loves them; she could get you in some real trouble. Besides," he added, "It'd be more effective to get revenge on them socially. You know how the Populars are: take away their reputation and they have nothing."

"Yeah, good point," Chad said, "I don't need any _more_ detention before the championship game," he looked pointedly at Troy.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Troy said sheepishly, "I thought I recognized that new girl. And I did, too! But I didn't mean to get caught."

"That's what they all say," Chad said, but he gave a little smile.

* * *

"Dad!" Troy called, voice echoing through the halls, "Dad, where are you?"

"Maybe he's not here," Chad suggested.

"But he didn't mention going anywhere," Troy said, "Let's check and see if the car's in the garage."

Chad followed him down a couple hallways and through a door into the garage.

"Still here," Troy said, pointing out the obvious, "Maybe he's in his office. He might not have heard me, or maybe he's on the phone."

"That would make sense," Chad agreed.

They retraced their steps part-way down a hallway before turning into a door on the right. It was obviously a study, with bookshelves forming the walls, a couple pedestals with sculptures, and a desk in the middle with a computer, all of which was littered with papers. But when Chad looked closer he saw the basketball touch that was apparent everywhere Coach Bolton went. A section of lightly-colored wall that should have been covered by a bookcase now sported a wide-screen television with basketball schedules taped to the sides. The pedestals on the carpeted floor held, not various works of art as one would expect, but basketball players in various poses, and at least a quarter of the papers on the desk showed basketball plays.

Troy noticed where his friend was looking, "You can never get him away from basketball," he grinned, "Not that it wasn't obvious anyway," he added.

Chad chuckled, "That's for sure, it's a wonder his career is not more related to basketball. I'd at least have thought he'd be a commentator or something."

"Yeah," Troy agreed, "But he says that an athlete should be able to sit down and do office work as well as playing his game."

"Makes sense, I guess," Chad said, "Hey, what's this?"

"What?" Troy asked.

"This," Chad gestured toward a paper on the desk.

"I don't know, something for work, probably," Troy replied, glancing at it. Then, "Hey, it has our names on it! 'Troy Bolton and Chad Danforth'."

"Yeah, along with the rest of our stats?" Chad said, "And I'm not talking basketball stats."

"Woah, you're right," Troy whistled, "Height, weight, hair color, eye color, everything!"

"That's kind of weird..." Chad said.

"Not really," Troy said, "It's probably something for the team somehow, for the school. You know how the government is about details and paperwork."

Chad looked down the paper, "What about this?"

"'Taylor McKessie'," Troy read, "'Gabriella Montez'..."

"Don't tell me they're on here for the team, too," Chad said, "And Gabriella only just moved here this past week and started school today!"

"You're right," Troy said, his brow furrowed, "It doesn't make any sense."

"He's even got histories for all of us," Chad said, "Why would a basketball coach have this stuff? Principal, maybe. But _basketball coach_??"

"It doesn't make any sense," Troy repeated, "I'll ask him about it when he gets back. He's probably got a perfectly good reason for it."

"Probably," Chad agreed, "It's just weird..."

They were silent for a moment, then a crash made them jump.

"It came from the garage," Troy said, starting toward the door, "I guess he was just in with his tools somewhere or fixing a fuse and didn't hear us come in."

They walked out of the study and down the hall to the garage. Troy opened the door.

"Hey, Dad," he said, seeing his father and mother standing on the far side of the garage, half-hidden by the car, "Where were you? Chad and I had a question for you."

They started walking around the car.

"A couple questions, actually," Chad said pointedly with a look at Troy.

Troy's parents just stared at them.

"Uh...yeah," Troy said, "We were wondering if..." his voice trailed off as he rounded the car.

Chad followed and stopped short behind Troy as he gaped at the scene before him. The floor was opened up, with a ladder leading into a semi-dark hole. This was particularly odd since the garage floor was concrete.

"Dad?? Mom??" Troy managed to get out, tearing his eyes from the hole in the floor to look at his parents in surprise.

Coach Bolton cleared his throat, finding his voice.

"Uh...Troy," he said slowly, as if he wasn't quite sure what to say, "This here is...um...a tunnel...uh..."

"That's been here since the Civil War!" Mrs. Bolton cut in, "It was used to...er...help slaves escape!"

"A Civil War tunnel?" Troy asked uncertainly.

"In New Mexico?" Chad asked with equal puzzlement.

Troy's parents seemed unsure of what to say.

A gravelly voice drifted up from the hole in the floor, speaking in a low enough voice that Chad couldn't hear what he said.

"But they..." Troy's mom started.

"Enough!" the voice said, suddenly loud, "I'm in charge here! I say bring them, you bring them! You got it?"

"Yes!" both of Troy's parents squeaked, obviously terrified of the voice's owner. They turned back to Troy and Chad.

Troy looked at Chad. Chad looked at Troy. They bolted for the door with Troy's parents in hot pursuit.

"Grab them!" Coach Bolton yelled, his voice portraying a cold-hearted cruelty that Chad had never heard before from anyone, much less Troy's seemingly-loving father.

"I'm trying!" Mrs. Bolton replied, her voice the same as her husband's.

Chad looked at Troy, who had stopped short and seemed to be stuck to the floor, staring with shock and horror at his parents.

"Troy!" Chad cried, "Let's get out of here!"

Troy didn't seem to hear him.

Chad slapped his face, "Troy!!"

Troy snapped out his stupor and suddenly was running toward the door so fast that Chad had to use all his basketball training to catch up to him. Together they barged through the door and rushed down the hallway. They retraced the path that had brought them inside and slowed at the front door. Both of them where starting to breath hard, but they heard footsteps fast approaching and turned to the door.

_Wait,_ Chad thought, _That only sounds like one pair of feet._

"Troy..." he started at Troy yanked open the door.

Troy started forward and jumped back in surprise.

"Hello, boys," Coach Bolton sneered, throwing open the door all the way, "Going somewhere?"

"Up the stairs!" Troy cried.

They ran up the stairs three at a time, landing on the second floor. Troy was unhesitating as he ran down the hallway before them and turned into the corner room.

"Close the door!" he yelled to Chad, "And lock it!"

Chad nodded, wheezing for breath, and slammed the door, clicking the lock into place. He looked across the room at Troy, who had opened a window.

"Troy? We're on the second floor..."

"Shut up!" Troy shouted, suddenly angry, "I know what I'm doing!"

Chad shut up. He knew his friend was only stressed, and his options were either tears or anger, of which Troy chose anger.

_Good thing, too,_ Chad thought as Troy put one foot through the window, straddling it, then pulling the other foot over, _At least he can handle the situation in his anger._

"Come on!" Troy called.

"Uh...Troy?" Chad started again.

"Shut up and come over here!" Troy replied, "I've slipped out of my room this way lots of times when I was a kid!"

"When you weighed a lot less," Chad pointed out.

"Do you see any other options?" Troy asked in a suddenly controlled voice.

He had a point.

Troy disappeared from sight as Coach Bolton shouted from the other side of the door, "Come out here, you brainless kids!!"

Chad rushed over to the window and saw Troy jump the last two meters to the grass behind the bushes and go out to the sidewalk.

"Come on!" he called up to Chad, "Grab the vines and lower yourself down! They're strong enough! I think," he muttered.

There was a rhythmic pounding on the door as Troy's parents tried to get through it to them.

"Great," Chad groaned, "I'm dead!" but he moved to climb through the window. Once there, however, he hesitated again.

"I don't know, Troy, that's a long way down from these flimsy vines..."

The door splintered and caved in, revealing two red-faced adults filled with such anger and greed and cruelty that Chad had to look twice before recognizing the Boltons. They rushed across the room toward him the moment the door was free.

Chad looked down, but knew he had no choice. He grasped a rope of vines and dropped, lowering himself hand-over-hand toward the bottom. Half-way down three of the vines snapped under the weight, putting even more pressure on the remaining three.

Chad went faster.

A meter farther two more vines snapped.

Chad stopped and looked on with horror as the last vine stretched under the weight.

"Jump, Chad!" Troy called.

Chad jumped.

He wondered if it was a bad thing that he was horizontal to the ground.

Then he hit the bush and took the branches full in the back.

"Ooooohh..." he groaned as he rolled off and hit the ground with a dull thud.

"Come on, Chad," Troy said, pulling him quickly to his feet.

They ran down the driveway, Chad holding his bruised back. At the end they turned back and saw a crimson-faced Coach Bolton leaning out the window, shaking his fist.

"You were nothing but experiments!!" he yelled, "You didn't have anything without us!! Nothing!!"

Troy turned, tears finally breaking free. Chad hadn't seen his best friend cry since middle-school when the Evens twins had embarrassed him in front of the entire school assembly. But then, not everyone had had their parents, taken from them like this and replaced with cruel maniacs.

They ran down the street with Coach Bolton's voice on their heels.

"You had nothing!! You are nothing but experiments!! NOTHING!!!"


	7. Mystery Girl

Ryan hurried down the sidewalk parallel to the street behind Sharpay, who was walking ahead of him at breakneck speed.

He considered protesting her speed but quickly dismissed that idea. She wouldn't listen to him. And certainly not now, with her mind still trying to wrap itself around the concept that she had a pair of wings stuck to her back.

He himself was still trying to wrap his mind around that concept.

They were still a little more than a half dozen blocks from their house, but Ryan was already breathing hard. He wondered what their parents would say when Sharpay mentioned their dilemma. They would probably be incredulous at first, and after being shown the evidence on their backs would probably transport them straight to a doctor, perhaps some specialist, for immediate diagnosis. Ryan wondered if that was really what they wanted. Did they really want to be poked and prodded and tested by doctors and scientists until they could figure out what had caused this condition? Ryan wasn't sure he wanted this to happen, but he knew that Sharpay would do anything in her power to go back to her former social position, which she could never do with wings. But what choice did they have? Ryan suddenly remembered something.

"Sharpay?" he asked timidly. She said nothing, so he continued, "Father and Mother are at that meeting today in Dallas. They won't be at the house."

Sharpay uttered a small cry and stopped short so fast Ryan nearly ran into her. She raised her eyes temporarily as she realized that her comfort of knowing that their parents would take care of things would not come as soon as she had realized. She would be at the house, all alone with Ryan, for an eternity before they would return. An eternity without knowing anything about the little wings stuck to her back or how to get rid of them. But she decided that there was nothing to be done about it. She couldn't go back to school like this, nor could she go to any friends houses with wings stuck to her back. She would just have to wait. Maybe Ryan could search the internet for ways to get rid of these wings. Or maybe it was the latest widespread epidemic that everyone was coming down with.

Yes, she encouraged herself with the thought, That was quite likely. Why should she be the only one to suffer?

She started walking quickly again and Ryan had to run to catch up.

"Sharpay?"

"We'll live until then," she snapped back at him, "Maybe," she added to herself under her breath.

* * *

Troy Bolton ran across the intersection to the other side, oblivious to the angry honks from cars on both sides that he was drawing.

"Troy!" Chad called desperately for the dozenth time, struggling to keep up with his friend's pace, "Stop!"

And for the dozenth time Troy kept right on walking.

Chad sighed and hurried on. They were getting farther and farther from both of their houses and the houses and yards around them were gradually increasing in size the farther they went. They had to get back to Troy's house.

"Troy!" Chad said again, "We have to get back to your house!"

Troy kept walking.

Chad tried a different route, "Your parents will be able to explain!"

This time Troy stopped, but didn't turn around, and Chad caught up with him, slightly winded.

"How?" that single word portrayed the bitterness Troy was feeling.

"Well..." Chad paused, thinking of what kind of reason Coach Bolton and his wife would have for their harsh treatment of Troy and Chad, "They were told to say those things by a maniac who threatened to kill us if they didn't?" he asked weakly.

Troy turned around and Chad was surprised by the hurt in his eyes, well covered by bitter indifference that anyone but Chad wouldn't have been able to see past.

"You really think that?" Troy asked coldly, his voice breaking slightly, "What of the trapdoor in the garage? What of the voice we heard order them to take us?"

"I don't know," Chad admitted quietly, looking down, feeling his best friend's pain all-too-clearly.

Troy turned and started walking again, forcing Chad to hurry to catch up. Chad knew that Troy's parents had acted very strangely. They were so out of character. He had known Troy and his parents for years. He knew them like few others did. And Coach Bolton and his wife never acted like that. So cold-heartedly. So ruthless. So uncaring.

His thoughts were interrupted as Troy slowed suddenly, stiffening. Chad slowed quickly to avoid hitting him and looked up. He saw Sharpay Evans walking down the sidewalk toward them followed by her brother and personal entourage, Ryan.

Troy had his head in a hand, "No, please, not _them_!" he moaned.

* * *

Gabriella walked down the street with Taylor beside her. The first few minutes had seen Taylor talking constantly about how wonderful their condition was and how much it would mean for science. Then Gabriella had asked her in a strained voice if she couldn't just be quiet, and they had walked in silence ever since.

"Oh, look! It's Mr. Evans!" Taylor said after a little while as they came to an intersection in the streets, "Hi, Mr. Evans!" she called and waved.

There were hardly any cars at all on these streets, and as Gabriella looked up Mr. Evans began to jog across the street to them.

"Hi, girls," he greeted them as he approached, "How are you?"

"Pretty good!" Taylor said lightly, "How about you?"

"I am well, thank you," Mr. Evans answered, "I was just looking for Sharpay and Ryan. I stopped by East High to pick them up but apparently they had already left. You wouldn't happen to have seen them, would you?"

"Sorry, no," Taylor said, "I hope you find them, though."

"Thanks, so do I," Mr. Evans said, turning and starting to walk up the street from where Gabriella and Taylor had come. He stopped and turned, looking at Taylor more closely, "Say, aren't you Taylor McKessie?"

"Yes, I am," she said, surprised.

He turned to Gabriella, "And you're Gabriella Montez?"

Gabriella nodded silently.

Something in his eyes changed and they suddenly had an disturbing, almost devious glint in them, causing Gabriella to take an involuntary step back.

But his hand shot out and grabbed her arm before she could move away from him, "You two need to come with me!"

"What...what's going on??" a wide-eyed Taylor asked fearfully.

"I need you girls to come with me!" he repeated.

"No!" Gabriella tried to break free, but Mr. Evans tightened his grip on her arm and she cried out in pain.

Suddenly Taylor's shoe shot up and connected with his jaw. His mouth dropped open in surprise before his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed, almost pulling Gabriella with him before she could pry his fingers from her arm.

"Thanks, Taylor," she said softly as he friend's leg came back down to the ground from the high kick.

"I never thought those Taekwondo lessons my mom made me take would ever come in handy," Taylor said, staring at an unconscious Mr. Evans with wide eyes.

Gabriella heard voices up the street and turned to see Troy, Chad, Sharpay, and Ryan all hurrying toward them. They looked worried. Sharpay looked hysterical.

"We've got company," Gabriella said to Taylor without turning her head.

* * *

Ryan couldn't believe what he was hearing. Both Troy and Chad seemed to have those wing-like things on their backs? He would've thought that they were mocking Sharpay and him, except that they didn't usually do things like that. Not like he and Sharpay mocked them, he thought with a sliver of guilt, but he pushed it away.

He looked down the street and saw a couple of people standing on the sidewalk with something on the ground. If he wasn't mistaken, it was Taylor McKessie and Gabriella, the math nerds. He didn't particularly want to have people to talk to, especially these nerds, in their current predicament, but since he wasn't outright rude he would just have to see how quickly he could end any conversation that started or, better yet, avoid one altogether.

* * *

"Wings!!" Taylor exclaimed in excitement, practically shaking with energy, "I don't know how! We just found them earlier! They're not very big yet! Probably not enough to carry our weight anyway! But maybe they'll keep growing! And we'll be able to fly! Humans are evolving into better beings! And we're the very first! That we know of, anyway!" she stopped for breath and her wide grin faltered slightly as she saw Gabriella staring daggers at her.

"We agreed not to tell everyone," Gabriella said through gritted teeth.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Chad said, "It seems that we all have them. I wonder if anyone else does?"

"They don't."

The voice was from the yard next to them. They turned and saw a dark girl of average height leaning against a tree.

"What?" Chad asked.

"No one else does. You six are the only ones," she replied as calmly as if she were discussing the morning paper. Her voice had a kind quality to it that made you want to trust her right away, even though you'd never met her before.

Troy looked at her suspiciously, though. His own parents had just betrayed him and he wasn't ready to trust a complete stranger, however kind-sounding, just yet.

"How do you know that we're the only ones?" Chad asked her.

"Someone in authority told me it was so," she said.

"Can you be a little more specific?" Chad asked wryly.

"Why should we trust you?" Ryan demanded.

"Because you don't know who to trust right now," the girl said to Ryan.

"Our parents—" Ryan began.

"...Are plotting to kidnap you because they are not really your parents," the girl finished, standing fully and beginning to walk across the yard to them.

"Like mine?" Troy asked, his voice almost a whisper.

Chad put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

"Yes, like yours," the girl said, her eyes sympathetic, "They will stop at nothing," she motioned toward the forgotten, unconscious body of Mr. Evans, "To get what they want."

Sharpay uttered a cry and rushed to her father.

"What did you do to him?!" Ryan demanded angrily.

"Not me," the girl said as she came to the end of the yard and stepped onto the sidewalk, "It was her," she nodded at Taylor.

"He tried to grab us," Taylor squeaked, scared of Ryan's angry protectiveness.

"They will stop at nothing," the girl repeated, "None of them," she looked pointedly at Chad, then Gabriella.

"Are you saying that...my mom..." Gabriella seemed offended that such a thing would even be mentioned, but she looked worried.

"I am," the girl said sadly, "I'm sorry."

"I don't know who you think you are," Gabriella's voice shook with emotion, "But my mom would...would not...she wouldn't do what...you're saying that she...that she..."

"She will. They all will," the girl straightened, and for the first time she seemed to have a sense of urgency about her, "We don't have much time," she said quickly, "They are coming."

"Yes," Ryan said snidely, "They're coming to kidnap us and take us away to..."

"I don't have time to argue," the girl said in exasperation, "Listen, they will be coming very soon. They will try to subdue you and take you with them. You will have to run. You may be able to fly."

"We might?" for a moment Taylor forgot her worry and was back in the world of science.

"Yes," the girl said, "I don't know all the details, but your wings stayed in your DNA for the first few years of your life. Then, when the set time had come, the wings were programmed to sprout and be fully functional within days. I do not know if the required amount of time has passed, but you _may_ be able to fly away."

"From our own parents," Chad said flatly.

"Parents who are trying to kill you!" the girl seemed distressed. She stopped and looked from person to person, "They will be here soon," she said, "You will then see if I am to be trusted."

As she finished speaking, a car swung round a corner up the street with screeching tires and charged down the road well over the speed limit.

"My dad's driving," Troy seemed faint and swayed unsteadily for a moment before Chad steadied him.

The car screeched to a halt not fifty feet from them and their various parents began jumping out.

"Why are all of our parents riding together?" Chad murmured. It was not so much a question as a statement of eccentricity.

"Mother!" Sharpay cried tearfully, running toward her mother.

"They knocked out Vance!" one of them called.

"Get them!" someone's mother shouted.

The glint of guns were suddenly visible in all of their parents hands and Sharpay stopped up short with a cry of surprise.

"Psssst!"

Troy looked and saw the dark-haired girl standing, unnoticed, nearly out of sight behind a tree in the yard behind them.

"Run," she hissed, her eyes locking into Troy's.

Troy nodded, seeming to gain strength from somewhere deep down inside himself. He turned to Chad, who stood stunned and ensaddened by the sight of his parents acting so barbarously.

"We need to go away from here," Troy said.

Chad didn't seem to hear, so Troy put a hand on his shoulder and gripped it tightly.

Chad nodded, "Yes," he said almost regretfully, "We do."

The others seemed to have come to the same conclusion almost wordlessly and, with bullets and the shouts of adults whom they had once thought of as parents on their heels, they ran.


End file.
